


Closed For Business

by AvaChanel



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:14:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23902156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaChanel/pseuds/AvaChanel
Summary: With some luck, and a little push from friends, Cloud & Tifa finally get a chance at the "date" that was promised in Sector 7. Two-shot based on Final Fantasy 7 Remake. CloTi.
Relationships: Tifa Lockhart/Cloud Strife
Comments: 46
Kudos: 308





	1. Heaven Blues

_Heaven Blues_

* * *

_"People are in the dark, they don't know what to do,  
Had a little lantern oh but it got blown out too,  
I'm reachin out my hands. I know you are too,  
Cuz I just want to be in the dark with you..."_

_~Greg Brown_

* * *

In hindsight, he really had no right to be so _jealous_.

As Barret so often loved to remind him, she didn’t _belong_ to him. She wasn’t his property, and she sure as shit wasn’t his _girlfriend_. But Cloud knew that was just the big guy’s way of reminding him what a coward he thought he was for never making a move. The word _girlfriend_ in reference to Tifa was a not so subtle dig, and Cloud hated the fact that it actually did get under his skin.

Taunting him, like maybe Cloud would have a reason to be so angry if he just admitted how he felt, and maybe Barret would even help him out with the problem. But Barret liked to get a rise out of Cloud, and it stung even more that the ex-SOLDIER knew, deep down, he wasn’t entirely _wrong_ , either.

But how in the hell was he supposed to…just be _okay_ with other guys (and sometimes girls) coming onto Tifa like he wasn’t standing _right the fuck there_? How was he supposed to just take that? It was bad enough that none of her friends growing up ever took him seriously, but now it seemed all of Midgar didn’t, either.

It pissed him off, and yeah, maybe it made him not the nicest merc-for-hire in Sector 7. Or sector 6. Or even Sector 5. Not that it mattered anyways; his reputation spoke for itself. Cloud didn’t really care one way or the other how personable he came off to folks of the slums; he saw their affront as insulting, and most of their bold attempts at picking Tifa up were disgusting, rude, and disrespectful.

Tifa deserved better.

She deserved flowers and kind words and romantic dates and to be showered with flattery for the rest of her days, because she was just _that_ incredible. The lucky sod who got to date her should be aware of that, and Cloud wouldn’t stand for anything less.

“So then why don’t _you_ be that guy, mister hot shot?” Biggs had retaliated one day at the bar after Cloud had sent yet another overly enthusiastic patron running.

Cloud shrugged, feigning ignorance. “Not sure what you’re talking about.”

Biggs smirked. “Yeah you do.” 

Wedge pretended to play with the crumbs left on his plate, listening but pretending he was elsewhere.

Cloud sighed deeply. “Man was overstepping his bounds and he knew it.”

“Really?” Biggs sat up straighter, excited that Cloud had taken the bait like he knew he would. Like he always did when it concerned Tifa. “’Cause I thought he was being pretty smooth, askin’ for the receipt and wondering if it came with the cute bartender’s number, too.”

Cloud visibly stiffened, no doubt trying to mask his irritation and failing. Biggs took the mercenary’s silence as permission to press on, much to Wedge’s discomfort. “If you ask me, it was a clever little line, one I’d even consider using myself. Besides, coulda sworn it made Tifa blush-…”

“ _Enough_.” The icy warning in Cloud’s voice was so chilling that it brought the whole bar to a standstill. He hated that they all knew how to press his buttons. This was why he wasn’t supposed to have any buttons to push in the _first_ place.

_But Tifa…_

At the fire in Cloud’s mako-glowing eyes, Biggs grinned wider, and Wedge’s fingers twitched while he kept his head down. Occasionally, he’d cast a nervous glance over at the back of the bar, as if anticipating Tifa and Jessie’s return any moment now. Maybe even _hoping_ for it, just so the tense conversation would end. The Seventh Heaven had been in dire need of a supply restock and Jessie had decided to accompany Tifa since, in her own words, _pretty girls ought to stick together in the slums._

“Alright, _fine_ ,” Biggs finally conceded, hands up in the air in mock surrender. “Have it your way. Just don’t say I never tried to help a brother out.”

When the door swung open, it felt like a knife slicing through tension so thick, and it drew everyone’s immediate attention. Tifa and Jessie walked in with a handful of bagged goods, completely oblivious to the mood of the room and in positively good spirits. Immediately, all three men rose to help, but Tifa reassured them that she could handle a few meager groceries.

“So, what have you boys been up to while we were gone?” Jessie asked rather coyly, making it a point to stare at Cloud the most intently.

Uncomfortable under her unabashed eyes, he cast his gaze downwards and leaned back against the wall. No one answered the question.

“This meat pie you made is incredible, Tifa!” Wedge then stated rather abruptly, his voice a bit higher pitched than normal.

She smiled, and Cloud felt like the room lit up a bit, despite the former tension. It was always easy to forget all his problems when he was around Tifa, especially if she was feeling cheery. It was like a subtle reassurance that everything would be okay somehow, no matter that the world around them was crumbling to pieces. Still, it made his chest tighten remembering all that she’d been through, all the adversity and challenges, and how she still managed to find a way to stay hopeful. Find a cause and do more than just survive; Tifa _thrived_.

“There’s seconds in the fridge if you’d like. It’s a popular dish. I make one for Marle every week.”

“And for some of the lads in the Watch, too. They all talk about how great your cooking is, Tifa,” added Biggs, knowing full well that Cloud had snapped his head in his direction to fix him with an icy, mako-infused glare.

This time, no one missed it; Tifa certainly blushed, doing that thing she always did whenever she was feeling insecure – brushing a lock of dark hair behind her ear and averting her gaze. The silver moon-crest earring twinkled in the bar light. Cloud couldn’t stop watching the way she was trying to be secretive with her small smile.

Once upon a time, he’d have given up everything to be the reason for that smile.

And now, he wasn’t entirely sure if that had changed.

_So then why don’t you be that guy, mister hot shot?_

Biggs’ challenge echoed in his mind, and it grated on his nerves, made him antsy. Like he needed to _act_ , but didn’t quite know _how_. 

_Because_ , he thought rather bitterly in answer to the question Biggs had posed, clenching his hands into tight fists, _I’m no hero, either._

“Cloud?” It was Tifa’s voice that called out to him. He’d recognize it anywhere. Immediately, he snapped out of his own train of thoughts and looked up to note that she was staring at him with concern in her eyes.

 _Dark amber_. Like a glass of sherry in the dim light, and just as sweet.

She caught him off guard, and he stumbled on his words. “Sorry,” he apologized, meekly.

“For what?”

_For everything._

“For zoning out.”

Tifa giggled before pushing a plate across the bar counter towards him. “I was just asking if you’d like to try a slice. Can’t imagine you’ve eaten much this afternoon.”

“I-…”

Before Cloud could finish his thought, a group of rambunctious slum dwellers then walked into the bar, talking loudly and drowning him out – a feat that wasn’t terribly hard to accomplish with the rather soft-spoken former SOLDIER.

Effectively interrupted for better or worse, Cloud returned to looking glum and irritable in his spot against the wall. Jessie had once compared him to an intimidating bouncer, and playfully asked if Tifa had hired him to scare off her more annoying customers. As usual, Cloud had not given into her flirtations, but like hell that would stop her. Jessie was a force to be reckoned with when it came to her desires. Such a shame she was completely oblivious to Biggs’ interest, and Cloud’s _disinterest_ , for that matter.

Noting that the flaxen-haired mercenary would not be eating now that Tifa was distracted again, Biggs had decided to take the slice of her infamous meat pie that she’d left out, and happily shared it with Jessie at their table. Tifa, in the meantime, had grown too busy taking on the orders of her new clientele to notice.

Aggravated, Cloud tried not to pay attention to the rowdy customers’ flirty commentary and Tifa’s equally smooth banter as she worked them for all the tips they could give her. In the meantime, Jessie, Biggs, and Wedge kept trying to invite their newest AVALANCHE member over to their table, but he ignored them. He was far too irritable for conversation, more so than usual. He kept his murderous gaze on the swine currently ogling Tifa, and thought of ways he ought to threaten to pluck out their eyeballs.

It was getting to him again, and he knew that was _bad_.

Part of him even considered leaving the bar entirely, to find some other form of busy work around town and distract himself, but he couldn’t stand the thought of leaving Tifa alone, _especially_ around such punk-faced dirtbags. She could take care of herself, that much he knew, but he never could combat his own protective nature whenever it concerned the barmaid. Not since the events of Mount Nibel. All those years where he’d _promised_ to come back to her a hero, to be there for her in her time of need, and meanwhile, Tifa had become her own savior while patiently waiting for him to get his shit together.

Initially, he had felt like an utter failure all over again when he’d realized that he was still useless to her. But Barret had assured him that it was a narrow-minded fool who had that line of thinking, and shouldn’t it have meant more to him that Tifa didn’t necessarily _need_ him, but rather, _wanted_ him around? 

The idea had silenced Cloud on the matter, begrudgingly, but that didn’t mean he had to be happy about witnessing everyone around him trying to flirt with his childhood friend. The anger that boiled his blood was no different from when they’d been kids, and he’d watch from a distance as all the neighborhood bigwigs’ children congregated around her, as if they cared about her at all. As if they knew a _thing_ about her.

He’d hated them then.

And he _hated_ them now.

“Oh no,” Jessie piped up from somewhere in the distance, smacking Biggs on the chest with the back of her hand and catching him off guard. “Cloud’s got that _look_ on his face again, the one where you can’t tell if he’s brooding or plotting someone’s murder.”

“Can you blame him?” Wedge whispered back. “Having to watch your childhood crush get hit on by everyone in the slums, never getting a moment alone with her. Would drive anyone a little bit crazy.”

“We should cheer him up,” stated Jessie enthusiastically.

Biggs raised an eyebrow at his companion. “And how exactly would you propose doing that?”

Jessie merely responded with her trademark mischievous smile.

Wedge cradled his head in his hands. “Oh no…”

Suddenly, the bar chatter was abruptly cut off by Jessie’s chair scraping its legs against the wooden floor just as she came to her feet. “Did you guys hear?!” she squealed delightedly once everyone’s eyes were on her. “They’re giving away _free materia_ at the item shop today only, in celebration of President Shinra’s birthday!”

At first, no one moved, the crowd of patrons staring at Jessie like she’d sprouted a second head. Wedge whispered under his breath to her, “What are you doing?!” But Jessie kicked his foot from under the table – which resulted in a sudden yowl of pain from the unsuspecting youth -- and ignored him upon realizing she was losing the crowd. The Seventh Heaven customers were now exchanging skeptical looks and whispers regarding the announcement, while Cloud and Tifa eyed Jessie suspiciously. 

She sighed, and then the actress in her came out. “I mean, sure, dilly dally if you _want_ , but then all the _good_ materia will have been claimed while you sit here like a bunch of morons,” she added with a casual shrug. “Come on, guys. Let’s get a head start on these scrubs.” Jessie kicked Wedge’s chair, nearly making it tip over, and Biggs, catching her small wink in Cloud’s direction, also stood up and walked towards the door.

They each gave Cloud a reassuring look, save for Wedge, who looked more like he was pleading for his _help_ instead.

As soon as all three AVALANCHE members left the bar, it took only a moment for the rest of the Seventh Heaven’s patrons to pick up after them in curiosity, leaving Tifa standing behind the counter in confusion.

“Uh…What was _that_ all about?” she asked the empty room, anticipating that Cloud, too, would be heading after them.

When the mercenary didn’t walk to the exit, Tifa cocked her head to the side and studied him curiously. “Aren’t you interested in some free materia, too?”

Cloud sighed and closed his eyes. “Why would a pro-AVALANCHE item shop give a crap about President Shinra’s birthday?”

He walked towards the bar and took a seat on the stool as Tifa digested the information. “But then, why would Jessie…?”

Cloud turned his face away, hoping she wouldn’t catch the blush creeping up his neck and making him sweat. “Got any other experimental drinks you want me to try?” He changed the subject.

“Why? Do you _like_ being my guinea pig, Cloud?” Tifa teased with a coy smile, seemingly forgetting the previous topic of conversation, much to Cloud’s relief.

“I like…,” he paused, as if to be seriously thinking about his next choice of words. Tifa watched and waited with bated breath. “I like…spending time with you…”

He was staring intently at a warped spot on the wooden counter, knowing the magnitude of his words were not lost to her, not in the slightest. Was it always this _hot_ in the bar? Maybe it was the intensity of the light…

When Tifa didn’t respond, Cloud became nervous in the impregnable silence, thinking that maybe he’d crossed a boundary with her, like all the other losers who’d try to pick her up. He couldn’t help chancing a nervous glance up at her, feeling anxious, the palms of his hands sweaty in his gloves. But Tifa had given him her back, pretending to busy herself with some light tidying of the bar.

Mentally, he kicked himself. Here he was, being irritated by everyone who dropped Tifa some stupid, corny line, and he turned out to be no better. He ought to stick to Jessie’s plan of being a bouncer. 

“There’s uhm…” Tifa coughed, clearing her throat. She was still furiously wiping down the already immaculate counters and giving Cloud her back. When she resumed the conversation, she spoke quickly. “There’s a spot near the Sector 5 train station everyone gathers at. They say you can see the fireworks best from there. You know, for President Shinra’s birthday…”

He waited, she paused and stood still, and he could swear he might have noticed her trembling. “…I might hate the man, but everyone swears the show they put on is spectacular…I figured maybe Jessie had already asked you, which is why I wasn’t sure if you were free, and I get it’s probably last minute and all, but-…”

“Sure,” Cloud interjected before he could think.

Tifa turned to face him now, both stunned and warmed by his enthusiasm, lips slightly parted in question and her eyes brightening. Maybe more like brandy than sherry this time.

“I mean, yeah, I’ll go, if you want,” he quickly corrected himself, trying to play it cool after being so blunt. But his chest felt tight and his stomach was doing something weird. His face felt hot, but before he could help himself, he also blurted out, “You still got that outfit picked out?”

It was Tifa’s turn to burn crimson at his insinuation, and the usually confident brawler fidgeted on the spot, tucking her hands behind her back demurely. “Depends. You still got something to match it?” she quipped, giving him a sultry eyebrow raise as she leaned forward.

The half-smile came naturally to Cloud’s lips; he liked it whenever Tifa would flirt with him. It wasn’t overbearing, but just enough to get his heart into a frenzy. “I can figure something out,” he replied with a similar amount of cheek. 

Tifa lit up and she beamed at him, clasping her hands excitedly. “Then it’s a date!” she exclaimed before realizing what she’d said.

With a sudden, small gasp, she covered her mouth with her hands immediately, embarrassed, while the two of them blinked widely at one another, neither saying what they were thinking, but too scared to look away, to move. To _breathe_. Time could have stood still and they would have never noticed.

Somewhere in the back of Cloud’s mind, a voice, both familiar and foreign to him at the same time, expressed a fulfillment of a deep, tender secret, but Cloud couldn’t focus on it. And it was gone before he could snatch it, like a wisp of a memory.

And then the magical moment came to a screeching halt when Tifa immediately spun round on her heel and resumed her task of cleaning an already clean surface. “I should close up early, go get ready,” she chirped nervously.

“Yeah.” It was all Cloud could manage to say by the time he remembered how to use his voice again. At least it hadn’t _cracked_. That was about the only way it could have gotten worse. “Me too.”

Before Tifa could pry further into the idea that he also wanted to look nice for their “date”, Cloud hopped off of the stool and made a beeline for the door, wondering how in the hell he was ever going to pull this off.

Like it or not, it was official; _he was going on a date with Tifa Lockhart._


	2. Only Up From Here

_Why the **fuck** did I say ‘mature’?_ Cloud thought in aggravation, growing more and more frustrated with the stupid tie he was attempting to do up around his throat.

The dirty bathroom mirror seemed to magnify his scowl as he fought with the blasted thing at his neck. All the monsters in the world, and he’d be beaten by a _damn tie_ of all things. Eventually, his fingers grew so clumsy in his increasing rage, that he tugged the wretched fabric off and popped some of the top few buttons from his collar, too.

“Shit!” he cussed aloud, throwing the tie to the ground where it joined a few of the opal buttons.

Whoever thought formal wear for men was a good idea ought to rot in hell. Cloud had never even _worn_ a tie before. He’d never really had a reason to. The last time he’d ever put on any formal-like clothing in his life had been when he was just a kid, and it was his _mother_ who had fussed over him back then.

The situation was hopeless.

Cloud had had barely any idea on where to even _buy_ such clothes; all he’d had upon entering the slums was the shirt on his back, and his buster sword. His possessions were meager, true, but essential. In fact, the new attire had cost him a small fortune; apparently, dress shirts and ties were a rare commodity in the slums.

_But it’s for Tifa…_

So, Cloud had sucked up his pride and asked Wedge if he knew anywhere nearby that sold…decent clothing.

“Why? What’s the occasion?” Wedge had innocently poised his question.

“Asking for a… _friend_ ,” Cloud had lied, knowing that Wedge would immediately see through it, but hoping he wouldn’t push the subject further out of the kindness of his heart. And he _did_ have a big heart, supposedly. At least, according to the other members of AVALANCHE.

Maybe Cloud’s lie wasn’t entirely _all_ a lie anyways; Tifa _was_ a friend, after all.

_A friend he was dressing up for to go on a **date** with._

There was a lump in Cloud’s throat as he sat down on his low, uncomfortable, creaky bed with a heavy sigh. The word _date_ echoed in his head like a looming threat. The expensive, silken white shirt he’d bought was ruined. He couldn’t figure out how to tie a tie. Wedge had probably spilled the beans to Jessie and Biggs by now, maybe even Barret, and they were probably taking bets on the six ways to Sunday he’d screw this up. Not to mention, he was out just over nine hundred gil for an outfit he didn’t even know enough about to feel confident in. So far, it was all going about as smoothly as a Doomrat’s hide.

* * *

**_~Earlier…_ **

_“Oh, hey! You must be that new merc in town! Tifa says a lotta good things about you!” The store owner exclaimed upon witnessing Cloud enter his humble store._

_Like the rest of the shops in Sector 7, it was a dirty, dingy hole in the wall, mom and pop retail establishment. Cloud tried not to visibly grimace at its shambled, grimy interior._

_“Yeah, I’m looking for something mature.”_

_The shop owner blinked a few times, confusion obvious in his tanned, weathered face. “Sorry, son. We don’t, uh…carry those types of products here. You’ll have better luck trying the item store for **that** activity…” _

_“Wait, what?” Cloud jerked his head, realizing he hadn’t worded his intentions properly. The tips of his ears burned, the cool and calm mercenary growing immediately flustered, and his stance became defensive. “No! Shit! That’s not what I meant!”_

_It was too late; the idea had rooted itself in his mind now, and all he could think about was partaking in “mature” activities with Tifa and exactly what that would entail. His heart raced and he stamped out the fire before it consumed him._

_The older man raised a bushy, silvery eyebrow._

_“What I meant was, I’m looking for something…nice. To wear,” amended Cloud quickly, looking down at his boots in hopes that the store owner didn’t catch the crack in the mercenary’s usually stoic exterior. Hopefully, his stupid little blunder didn’t affect his blossoming reputation in the Sector Seven slums._

_“Ah, why didn’t you say so?” The owner’s lips formed a genuine smile, and he whipped out an old, yellowed measuring tape from beneath the counter. “Thinking of attending one of Shinra’s notorious balls? Or, perhaps, looking to impress a certain lady, hm?”_

_Cloud visibly stiffened, warily scrutinizing the man now taking his body measurements while masking his discomfort at the stranger’s sudden nearness. “Just…trying something new,” he croaked in response._

_The shop owner smelled about as good as the clothes hanging off his racks; like dust and mothballs and his grandmother’s attic._

_“Any idea of what you’re looking for?”_

_“Isn’t that what I’m paying **you** to tell me?”_

_The store owner chuckled. “So it **is** to impress a woman.” _

_Cloud opened his mouth to argue but found that he was at a loss for words. Damn old man. He could swear he was smiling harder now._

_With a shuffling gait, he then tutted over to a rack and muttered to himself. “A little lacking in the height department…shoulders are quite broad, however…”_

_“Hey!” Cloud protested. “I can hear you, you know…” But the store owner may as well not have heard his patron’s agitated protests. He was far too preoccupied with his own musings._

_That afternoon, Cloud had tried on the most outfits he’d ever worn in his entire life. Each time he’d change into more or less a similar get up, just in a different color or cut. The old man would then spend a few minutes admiring it at first from every angle before then clucking his tongue in disapproval and trying again._

_All this indecisiveness was wearing Cloud’s patience thin, and if not for Tifa, he’d have given up and stormed out hours ago. Only when Cloud had put on the crisp, soft white dress shirt and matching black slacks did the shop owner finally seem quite pleased with himself._

_Standing back, he took in Cloud’s attire with his beady eyes and a difficult to read expression from beyond his silver rimmed spectacles. “Hmmm…”_

_Cloud sighed and rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Spit it out, old man. I don’t have all day.”_

_If his tone had been insulting, the salesman didn’t seem to notice. Instead, he walked up to Cloud and smoothed out the creases along his shoulders. “Hm, yes. Yes, I do think this’ll do quite nicely. Simple, but to the point. A classic style.”_

_Cloud exhaled in relief, slumping forward like a great weight had been lifted off him at last. “Great, how much do I owe you?”_

_He reached for the pockets on his other pants, fishing for some gil, assuming five hundred would be more than generous, when the store owner said, “Normally, I charge about fifteen hundred gil plus gratuity for this sort of stuff.”_

_All the colour drained from Cloud’s face._

_“But,” the owner continued with a now cheeky smile, “For Tifa, I’ll make an exception. Nine hundred.”_

_“Nine hundred?! You call that a deal? More like a robbery,” Cloud retorted, still shell shocked by the hefty price tag._

_The shop owner shrugged his shoulders. “Marle will agree with me that Tifa likes a man in a classy cut. Is she not worth the little bit of money to show her a good time? Here, I’ll even throw in a tie, on the house.”_

_Cloud floundered like a fish out of water. He was angry, embarrassed, and didn’t know how the heck the salesman he’d only met a few hours ago already knew so many intimate details regarding Tifa, and his relationship with her. Marle must have been telling folks all about him, and that only made Cloud even more nervous about what she might have shared. Annoyed, and grumbling insults under his breath, Cloud then pulled out the gil and forked it over, dropping some coins on the counter before cussing loudly and returning to the changing stall in the back corner of the shop._

_The salesman laughed and counted out the gil as Cloud flung the curtains closed in a flustered huff, wanting nothing more than to leave..._

* * *

“Ugh,” he groaned aloud, burying his face in his hands at the memory of all the hard-earned money he’d wasted on the clothes that were now ruined. “So much for impressing her…”

Cloud sighed, feeling the time tick on by while he drowned himself in his own self-pity, debating if he should call the whole thing off, make up some sort of excuse that would let her down easy. Without paying attention to the clock, he couldn’t exactly say how long he sat there in his room, moping and debating with himself – maybe until the artificial daylight put out by the plate dimmed down into “night” – when he heard a soft knock on his apartment door. Fate had seemingly made the decision _for_ him, he realized dejectedly. 

The knock was followed shortly by a question, “Cloud? Are you home?” Her voice was muffled, but it was enough to get him to come to his feet immediately.

He swallowed, finding his own voice again. “Y-yeah. Sorry, one second.”

_One second for what?_

His shirt was only buttoned to just beneath his collarbone, the tie was on the floor, he hadn’t even had a chance to spray on some of that nasty cologne Biggs had lent him. Cloud wiped his clammy hands on his black pants, took in a deep breath, and figured there was no use in keeping Tifa waiting.

He swung open the door and peered out.

_Damn…_

“Damn…”

It took Cloud a moment to realize he’d spoken his thoughts out loud, and Tifa immediately blushed under his intense azure stare. “You like it?” She gave him a little twirl, resulting in the mercenary feeling suddenly feverish.

Cloud’s head was spinning. It was no secret to anyone that Tifa Lockhart was nothing short of _stunning_ – the smile, the eyes, the dark hair, the abs, the legs, she was the full package. But the little purple number she was currently wearing, standing outside Cloud’s apartment – emphasis on _little_ – was enough to make even the iciest SOLDIER forget how to breathe.

“I, uh…you look…”

She glanced up at him, anticipating the compliment eagerly, and it was then that he’d noticed she’d even put on some light makeup to accentuate her already killer cheekbones, eyes, and lips. But Tifa’s expression immediately changed upon glancing at the damaged collar of his shirt. “Oh no!” she exclaimed, reaching out to touch the spot where the buttons had torn off. “What happened?”

Truthfully, Cloud’s tongue went numb at how close she suddenly was, and he couldn’t get speech to work. That part of his brain seemed to have effectively shut down because there was a pretty girl paying attention to him. Try as he might to focus, all Cloud could shamefully think about was the subtle perfume of her hair, and the sweet, flowery scent on her skin. “Huh?” he said, like a moron.

“Your shirt, it’s missing some buttons. I hope you weren’t ripped off…” Tifa clucked her tongue and gently smoothed out his dress shirt with her hands.

They were notably small and warm, and Cloud couldn’t help thinking that he didn’t really want her to _stop_.

“Although, it is in style to wear it open like this.” Tifa bit down on her bottom lip and carefully exposed Cloud’s collarbone, folding back the collar to hide the spot the buttons had been torn off.

“There,” she said, being careful not to meet his eyes. “That ought to fix it.”

Cloud frowned. “I feel like…Johnny.” Too exposed, but if Tifa liked it, then…

“Really? I think you look sharp!”

Tifa stood back, hands on her hips while she scrutinized him from head to toe, meanwhile, Cloud couldn’t take his eyes off of _her_.

Cloud felt sheepish, cleared his throat, and averted his gaze. The fabric of her dress was slinky, and it looked soft, but he didn’t want Tifa to lump him in with all the other guys who shamelessly ogled her fine figure.

“Aren’t we going to be late?” Clearing his throat, he changed the subject.

“I wouldn’t worry too much. There’s a water tower no one really knows about that gives you a pretty good view of the show.”

He raised an eyebrow. “No one knows about it?”

“Well,” Tifa started, clasping her hands behind her back, “More like, it’s a notorious gathering place for a few fiends. Nothing we can’t handle, though. Maybe a Smogger or two.”

So that was the catch. Cloud couldn’t help but smirk; leave it to Tifa to fight, even in a dress and heels. “Guess we’ll be bringing a few weapons along, too then, huh?”

She tapped her small purse notably, her gloves likely tucked away inside it. “Already a step ahead of you. A girl can never be too careful.” She winked and his heart fluttered.

Even though Cloud knew perfectly well that Tifa could kick ass and then some, he still hated the idea of her being in any sort of vulnerable situation. She never deserved that, not after everything that happened in Nibelheim. He nodded once and went back into his tiny apartment to get his sword.

“Hope this doesn’t ruin the look,” he told her, realizing that it would appear odd to be walking around in dress clothes while brandishing a massive weapon too inconspicuous to hide.

Tifa smiled infectiously. “If anything, a thief will think twice before mugging us now.”

For the most part, she was right. Nobody really bothered them on their stroll through the slums so late in the evening, and the ones who thought about it took one look at Cloud and his Buster Sword and thought better of it.

That didn’t mean they weren’t _staring_ , though. Someone even dared to make the mistake of catcalling, and Cloud nearly brandished his sword, only to watch the ingrate scamper backwards into a dark alleyway in sheer terror. “Cockroaches,” Cloud scoffed under his breath.

“You really aren’t a people person, are you?” Tifa nervously chuckled once they were alone.

Cloud shrugged. “Most people suck.”

“And what about me?”

“You’re not most people…”

“I mean…what am I to _you_?” she asked again. Tifa was walking a little ahead of him now so that all he saw was her back, and her long, flowing dark hair.

“You’re…Tifa.” It was lame as far as answers went, but what the hell was he supposed to say to that? Nothing in his vocabulary at the moment could adequately describe his relationship with her.

Tifa was his _friend_ , but she was also more than that. She sure as heck was not his girlfriend, that’d be way too presumptuous on his part. But she was _important_ , of that there was no doubt.

Tifa sighed, and Cloud hung his head in disappointment, ashamed of the silence falling between them. He wished, more than anything, that he could give her what she wanted. But there was always something holding him back. Usually, uncertainty. It tied his tongue in knots and by the time he could even think about what the right thing was to say, the moment would pass and he’d be too late. Opportunity lost. He felt like a dick.

They walked the rest of the way without speaking much at all, and had nothing to listen to but the sounds of ambient nightlife in the slums, and Tifa’s heels clicking against the uneven pavement, louder than Cloud’s own thoughts.

She always walked a few paces in front of him, just a little out of reach. _Just like when they were kids…_

How easy would it be to reach out, to take her hand.

But even now, he’s a coward. If he closed his eyes, he could hear the childish teases and taunts of his peers in the back of his mind, ridiculing him for his weakness. _She’d never like a loser like you._

“We’re almost there.” Tifa’s voice broke the quiet spell, but she wouldn’t face him when she spoke.

Interestingly enough, there’d been no fiends on the route. Cloud wanted to make a comment on that, change the subject, lighten the mood, but he found that his mouth still refused to work, his jaw fixed tight and taut stubbornly. His hands were fists at his sides and he almost wished there had been something to kill. Just to let off some steam, at least.

While Cloud had been enthralled by his own turmoiled thoughts, Tifa started climbing the isolated fixture, and it was only then that he recognized it; the water tower.

“You coming?” She asked from atop the ladder, leaning over the edge so that her hair dangled in free air.

A sense of deja-vu came over the mercenary before it was immediately overshadowed by worry for Tifa’s safety. Climbing a water tower in heels and a flimsy dress was far from ideal, but Tifa Lockhart was not to be underestimated. In fact, she practically made it look _effortless_. Cloud clambered up after her in a frenzy while telling himself _not to look up_. He didn’t know a whole lot about women, or women’s clothing for that matter, but he could be damn well certain she’d likely worn a thong under a dress that tight… _Or nothing at all…_ He swallowed at the thought and kept his gaze focused on the cold steel in front of him.

“It’s about to start!” exclaimed Tifa. By the time Cloud had reached the top, she was already sitting on the ledge, kicking her feet against the backdrop of endless night sky, staring up expectantly.

The pale lights along the plate blinked with the fabricated stars, and it reminded Cloud of the fireflies he’d caught as a child in Nibelheim, glowing and fading to their own pulse. He took his spot next to Tifa, being mindful to keep a sliver of space between them, just in case. He felt strange in his new clothes and found that he missed his old SOLDIER uniform. As if he was more exposed this way, more vulnerable, even with his sword laying right next to him.

“They say this year’s show is meant to be like the one at the Golden Saucer,” Tifa said.

Cloud scoffed. “A shame it’s wasted on a pig like Shinra.”

“Tonight, it won’t be.” She turned to smile at him, like he was privy to some secret she’d kept.

“How?”

“Tonight, it’s for _us_.”

Tifa appeared a smidge bashful when Cloud’s eyes widened at her bold insinuation.

“For all of the _slums_ ,” she corrected herself, even if it was a weak attempt.

“Just another thing to fight for and take back,” added Cloud.

Tifa nodded, a look of determination crossing her youthful features. The same one he was used to seeing on her nowadays with AVALANCHE.

The first waves of fireworks started a moment after, whistling through the sky and tearing it apart with flashes of bright, colorful lights. The show had started, and Tifa watched in amazement, staring wide and gaping, a childish smile on her face. The whole time she watched the sky, Cloud watched _her_.

He couldn’t help it; the fireworks were prettier in the reflection of her eyes. Of that, he was certain. Sparks of blue, pink, green, flashes of yellow. They illuminated her skin, brightened her already bright features, and it made his heart pitter patter nervously in that familiar way, catching him off guard, like there were fluttering butterfly wings grazing the edges of his insides. Cloud’s breath hitched in his throat, his fingers subconsciously itching. Dancing along the breach, reaching for _hers_.

“They’re really pulling out all the stops this time!” cried Tifa. The air was smelling like smoke as another explosion rained down in the sky in a bright flash of light. Opening like a flower in bloom, only to fade to a smokey shadow a moment after, and then immediately replaced by a new series of fireworks, louder and brighter still.

“It’s amazing…” she breathed.

“Yeah…” Cloud agreed faintly, still looking at Tifa. “It is…”

His fingers then unintentionally grazed hers and it drew both their attention. Pulling away had been a fleeting thought, but for some reason, his body wasn’t responding to his wishes. And so, his fingers remained paralyzed, and Cloud swallowed, shifting his gaze back to the sky and acting casual about the whole thing.

A moment later, and Tifa had seemingly closed the gap between them. Slowly, their shoulders brushed, and then her head was resting against him, her soft hair warm through his sleeves and her subtle aroma pervading his senses. Tifa’s hand was overtop his own, her delicate thumb tracing the lines of his tendons and veins. The gesture was small, but intimate, and Cloud hoped she’d never stop, even if he passed out for forgetting to breathe.

The fireworks show continued, but Cloud had long since stopped caring for it. In his heart of hearts, he only wanted to enjoy the moment, and the closeness of _Tifa_.

She was all that mattered. Everything about his past was muddled and confusing, full of holes and mysteries that hurt him whenever he tried to think on them.

In a world full of questions and darkness and impending doom, his one and only constant was somehow always _Tifa_.

“Thanks for coming, Cloud,” she spoke with a smile in her voice, the softness nearly overpowered by the sound of the whirring fireworks.

Somehow, Cloud’s heart felt _lighter_.

* * *

They walked back home in an amicable silence. This time, Tifa kept pace with him, consciously. They stood so close, anyone watching from a distance would easily presume they were lovers. Which might have explained how, this time, there were no catcalls made in Tifa’s direction.

_So then why don’t you be that guy, mister hot shot?_

Biggs was right. Things would be a lot easier if Cloud just owned up to how he felt, but even now, the concept was far too tender and raw. Like digging into an open sore.

Before Cloud could grasp what exactly it was that he wanted to say, he took in a sharp inhale and started, “Listen, Tifa-…”

“Tonight was fun, right?” She interrupted him with a chaste smile.

“Uh…yeah.”

“Sorry, you were saying something?”

He _wanted_ to say that he hoped they could make a habit of this. That they ought to spend more time together, alone. Get dressed up and go out. _Have fun._ Cloud _wanted_ to say a lot of things to her, but when it came to wording his desires, he fell apart.

“Just that I hope you didn’t lose too much business tonight.”

As Tifa’s smile fell, Cloud’s heart sank. “I mean…if we do this again sometime, you should find some coverage for the bar so it can stay open.”

Cloud slid his hands into his pants pockets and tried to appear nonchalant over his suggestion, but it didn’t escape Tifa, and she puckered up anew. “Hmm…maybe I will.”

“Speaking of which, would you like to stop by for a drink before we end the night?”

It appeared Tifa was thinking along the same lines as he was – that he didn’t want the night to end, not just yet. He didn’t want to say goodbye to her.

Cloud rolled his shoulders in a shrug. “Sure, why not?” And then, with a small smirk, he added, “Maybe I’ll even try some of that meat pie Wedge won’t stop talking about…”

Tifa visibly brightened. “Great idea! I’m feeling pretty peckish myself.” 

The bar – which was normally abuzz this time of night – was eerily quiet and empty. No doubt, her regular patrons had travelled to a different district in order to get their alcohol fix. Tifa unlocked the doors and flipped on all the lights before bounding to the bar counter and busying herself with preparing a meager nighttime meal. It was a bit unusual watching her work in her fancy attire, but it wasn’t like Cloud minded the view.

He took a seat and was content with watching her toil away.

She heated up a plate with a slice of the pie and popped off a cork from a fancy red wine before pouring it out into two expensive looking glasses that had come from beneath the counter. Not for her usual patrons. Tifa smiled and winked at Cloud. “Always save the good stuff for _special_ occasions.”

Cloud tried a bite of the warmed pie and Tifa watched for his reaction with bated breath, leaning over the counter with her chin resting on her palms.

“Hmm…not bad at all,” he noted, going in for a second bite.

Tifa exhaled in relief, and then stretched her arms up and over her head. “It was my mom’s recipe, believe it or not. She was the town’s best cook.”

Cloud nodded after he swallowed. “I remember. She always used to drop off a batch of cupcakes on my birthday every year.”

“She’d do that for every kid in Nibelheim…” Tifa reminisced, her eyes glossing over. “I begged her to teach me all of her secrets one day, so that I could have cupcakes all I wanted, and she’d always tell me she would, but when I was older.”

A sombre sadness tugged at Tifa’s features then, like her heart was relearning a sense of grief she’d long since buried. Her voice quivered as she spoke. “When she…when she _died_ , dad kept her book of recipes. He gave them to me on my fifteenth birthday, and told me she would have wanted me to have them…”

“Tifa…”

Tears stung the barmaid’s eyes, and she ducked her head, trying to hide them in embarrassment.

“I’m sorry,” she choked, wiping roughly at her face and trying to muster up a bleak smile. “I’m ruining it, aren’t I?”

Cloud shook his head, and reached out a hand to her, resting it on her pale shoulder in a consoling gesture. Somehow, it was different without his gloves. “No, you aren’t. You aren’t ruining anything.”

He decided that he hated seeing her cry. One look at her tear-streaked face and he knew he never wanted her to experience such grief ever again. Not if he could help it. Cloud ached with the desire to comfort her, to make her feel better, to say the right thing in that moment, but he simply didn’t know _how_.

So Tifa cried, and Cloud let her, all the while feeling like a failure once more.

“Why don’t we go home?” he asked her as gently as possible once her sobs subsided. The whole time, his hand did not leave her shoulder.

Tifa nodded, not trusting her voice. Cloud helped her tidy up, but not before she gulped down the remaining contents of her wine. She then drained his glass, too, when he said he was done with it.

They closed up the bar and headed outside, where the wind picked up in a chilly, midnight breeze. Cloud wished he’d had a jacket or something to lend her, to keep her shivering form warm. Tifa hugged her bare arms, goosebumps breaking out along her exposed skin, and Cloud continued to beat down on himself for screwing up. If he hadn’t been such a cheapskate at the shop earlier, he’d have gotten a coat.

When they reached her apartment door, Tifa turned to face Cloud, and her hands came up to grip his shirt before he thought about leaving. “Don’t…,” she said softly, staring at the open spot of the dress shirt. “I…I don’t want to be alone tonight. I won’t be able to sleep.”

Even as she said it, her voice broke. Cloud knew a thing or two about restless nights. Once his thoughts were consumed by Nibelheim’s destruction, he’d only be able to dream of his grief. Of losing his _own_ mother and being utterly helpless to stop it.

“Okay,” he said, not entirely concerned about the implications of spending the night with Tifa in her apartment.

In her cramped _bed_.

But Tifa was now sniffling back tears and unlocking her heavy apartment door, and Cloud knew she was too fragile for him to back out now.

Already, he was uncomfortably aware that he was sweating through his dress shirt, feeling the fabric sticking to his back.

“I can take the floor,” commented Cloud once they were both inside.

“Huh?” In the new light, he could see that the tip of her nose was red, as well as the whites of her eyes. She appeared confused by his statement at first, and then unbothered upon realizing what his point was.

“Oh, Cloud…”

Tifa crumbled atop her bed -- the mattress shifting beneath her added weight -- and sank her face into her hands.

Feeling guilty, and hoping she wouldn’t start crying again because he didn’t think his heart could handle it a second time, Cloud took a spot next to her and rubbed her back consolingly. At his touch, she looked up and smiled at him through her bleakness of her tear-streaked face. “Maybe we can just…maybe tonight, you can help take my mind off all of it…”

Cloud blinked, noting that her eyes were mostly dry now, and that her cheeks were rosier than usual.

“As in…talking?” He wasn’t a really great conversationalist, and he knew it. Listening, on the other hand…

“I was thinking, maybe something using _less_ words…?” Tifa crawled her hands up his chest, tentative but curious.

Like she was asking him if it was too much. But Cloud couldn’t think straight, not when her face was inches from his own and her lips – berry red -- looked so goddamn inviting.

Distracting.

He couldn’t even remember her question. What were they talking about?

Did it matter?

Cloud’s pulse was in his ears. Tifa’s heavy lidded gaze kept sweeping to his mouth in a way that made his insides do somersaults, tightening in arousal and making him ache. Anticipation, both cruel and tantalizing, _she could be his_ if he wasn’t such a bloody coward.

Kissing her was a long-kept wish, a deep, secret desire from when they’d been younger, that he’d held onto and buried for years. Every molecule of his body propelled him forward, in favor of acting on his impulses. In a perfect world, he’d kiss her without hesitation, without abandon. He’d kiss her, and he’d stay the night, and he’d never think about the whys and whats ever again.

_In a perfect world…_

A world where he never failed her. Where he’d been there before Sephiroth could kill her father. Before he could slash her across the chest. Before the madman had burned down their home and killed everyone and everything they’d ever loved.

Except for each other. They clung to one another like they were all they had left, and it was true.

Cloud gripped her hand in his – the one she’d left on his chest – and squeezed, but he was already turning his head away from her.

The spell broke, the moment passed, and he hated himself even more for it. “Sorry,” he breathed, his voice sticking in his constricted throat.

Somewhere within, a part of him was kicking himself and screaming in protest, heart breaking. Tears pricked the backs of his eyes for reasons he couldn’t quite understand.

Not being able to look her in the eye – to see the way her expression was crestfallen, watch the way disappointment filled her eyes – Cloud stood up, his mood turning icy already. “Early morning, we should both get some sleep.”

By the time she opened her mouth to speak, he’d already locked himself in the bathroom. Cloud had to grip the edges of the sink to keep his hands from shaking. The man in the mirror staring back at him – no matter how much Cloud poked and prodded at his features -- was not someone he recognized…

* * *

When he dreamt, he dreamt of dreary mountains. Grey cold skies and pollution in the air. Of broken, old bridges. Of someone vaguely shouting his name, but his ears were ringing, so he couldn’t hear them. He woke up to an empty room and the manufactured sunlight blazing through Tifa’s thin curtains, burning holes through his eyelids.

Her bed was made, but there was no sign of the brunette, other than her scent. It pervaded the entire apartment and if it were up to Cloud, he’d never leave. Tifa smelled like _home_. 

Like having eaten a meal gone bad, Cloud winced as reality hit him once more, recalling the events of the previous night, his heart sinking to the pits of his angry, roiling stomach. He'd fucked up _bad_.

_Why can’t I just be what she **needs**?_

Punishing him for his shortcomings, Cloud’s body revolted, and a dull but intense pain pulsed between his temples. He was also sore everywhere for having slept on her cold, hard floor.

The pain, he felt, was deserved after how he’d treated Tifa.

So, he took it, and left for his own apartment to clean up and change.

By the time he’d made it to the Seventh Heaven, the place was already bustling with life. He entered the bar and every head turned to acknowledge him. Everyone but Tifa, that is. The one who mattered _most_. She kept her head down and pretended to busy herself with something. 

Breakfast, by the smell of it.

Cloud gulped, but the lump in his throat persisted.

“Morning, sleepy head!” Jessie called out with a wave. “Come have a seat. Breakfast’s almost ready.”

“Yeah, and no thanks to _your_ lazy ass,” Biggs teased, earning a playful snarl from his comrade who then punched his arm. 

"Shut up! I don't exactly see you jumping up to help, either!"

With a heavy heart, Cloud obliged Jessie's wishes, his chest feeling tighter by the second, the weight on his conscience greater than the Buster Sword on his back.

Slowly, he shyly lifted his gaze to Tifa after he’d taken his seat at the bar, feeling ashamed and unworthy. But Tifa was smiling, humming to herself as she worked. Like nothing out of the ordinary had happened at all. _Like he hadn’t completely rejected her need for comfort the previous night because of his own intimacy issues_. Gods, he was an idiot. What Cloud would give to go back in time and try that scene again.

“Sleeping in ain’t exactly a SOLDIER trait, is it? Or are all of you just lazy by nature? Spoiled by ShinRa?” Barret quipped with a nasty smile on his face.

“Aw, leave him alone! At least he’s still here,” answered Wedge.

Cloud winced as his headache got worse.

From across the counter, Tifa slid a cool glass of water and some white tablets towards him. He looked up to find her smiling sweetly back at him. “You didn’t seem to get a whole lot of sleep last night. This’ll help with the headache.”

“I-…”

Biggs chuckled and folded his arms over his chest. “Wow, and how would _you_ know how he slept, Tifa?”

Jessie elbowed him in the chest hard enough to make him double over while Tifa stammered and flushed on the spot. “It…it’s nothing like that! The walls…they’re…thin, and…”

“You don’t owe us an explanation, Tifa,” Barret interjected and raised his hand up to silence her, sensing her unease and Cloud’s immediate cold shoulder. “Some things are better left unsaid.” Barret grimaced.

“I suppose that’s true. To be honest, I’d assumed you’d have packed up and left already after getting paid,” Biggs admitted, taking a drink from the fresh coffee Tifa had poured him.

Jessie rested her chin in her hands and stared up at Cloud dreamily. “But _I_ for one am glad you stayed.”

“Yeah, well…,” Cloud started, wondering if Tifa’s eyes were on him too now, “I’ve got my reasons…” It was subconscious the way he chanced a glance up at the pretty barmaid when he said this, and it didn’t escape anyone’s attention at what he’d implied.

“Yeah, yeah, you’ll want more gil.” Barret waved him off.

“Sure, there’s the gil. But I’ve also got to make something right…” Cloud was staring at Tifa now, catching her eye and making sure he didn’t miss a beat.

He was apologizing, in his own way. He wanted to make it up to her, and he had no intention of going anywhere until he did. Until he was worthy of her.

Truth be told, he’d never had any intention of leaving her ever again, not since they’d been reunited. His mouth might have said something else, but his heart knew he was right where he belonged.

It was like she could read his thoughts, see the way his emotions subtly played with his features every time he looked at her, unbidden longing tattooed across his skin and mirrored in his softening gaze. Tifa’s lips curled in a ghost of a smile and she nodded curtly in understanding.

“You mean, you’re finally coming around to wanting to save the planet?” Wedge asked him, unable to contain his excitement.

Feeling like he could finally breathe again – that he was out of the dog house for now - Cloud graced them all with an elusive smirk. “Something like that…”

Biggs exclaimed, “I’ll drink to that!”

Jessie rolled her eyes. “Isn’t it a bit too early to be drinking?”

“It’s the two o’clock _somewhere_ ,” Biggs replied.

Everyone kept jabbering on around them, but to Cloud, there was only one other person in the room, everything else was just background noise…

And, despite what he’d said earlier, there was only _one_ reason he’d opted to stay…

* * *

_~FIN_


End file.
